


For Those Lost and Redeemed

by The_Jashinist



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Fan-design for human Thresh, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Ruination, Redemption, not totally compliant with realms of runeterra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: With the Blessed Isles restored and the Black Mist receded, Helia returns as a major player in Runeterra.  While Helia struggles to restore its place in an increasingly chaotic world, a warden of dark magic must face the consequences of the horror he unleashed and find a balance between the world he tore his people away from and the world they've been returned to.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Father Kai settled in his seat and tried not to make eye contact with the monk in front of him. The monk was a boy by the standards of the Order, only twenty-four when the Ruination took everything from them. Ruination had changed him little. He was still the same willowy wretch Kai had last seen leading armed invaders to the sacred spring. Just a half-foot shorter than his shorter guard and slender, almost gaunt. His green eyes were almond-shaped and wide set, accentuated by the wide bridge on his nose.

This boy, his golden-brown dreads pulled back from his face and his brown skin marked with pale freckles, was Kai’s son, Auta - but most outsiders knew him by another name.

Thresh.

He didn’t look up at Kai, and Kai didn’t expect him to. His gaze was averted out of anger, not shame. He hadn’t looked at Kai properly since he was eighteen.

That was also the last time they’d spoken on any sort of familiar terms. Kai had hoped, when the Black Mist receded and the Isles turned a more verdant green, that his first words to his son would be happy or reassuring.

Instead, he was supposed to condemn him.

“Brother Auta,” Kai began, trying to keep himself from choking on his words. He stopped, cleared his throat, and continued. “You stand before the council, accused of crimes against the Order, and against your own people. The council saw fit to examine the evidence, and there can be no mistake. We find you guilty on all counts.”

Auta’s eyes drifted to the window, watching movement outside. He’d seen that response before. He was listening, but he didn’t much like what he was hearing. Kai took a deep breath and continued.

“The council left your sentence to me, though most recommended death.”

Auta’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t make a show of responding directly. If he wanted to die, he didn’t really indicate it.

“But,” Kai went on, “I believe death would do nothing. It would not change what has been done, and nothing would come of it. You would be one more body to add to the pile and...” Kai looked at the council, who seemed shocked to hear Kai’s dismissal of their recommendations. He’d always followed their advice before.

“After all the lives the Ruination took, and the hundreds who must be buried...” Kai took a deep breath. “I do not want to bury my own son.”

The council room sat in silent disbelief, Auta’s face turned to Kai in surprise. Kai looked at his son’s face for the first time in years and almost couldn’t continue, but he had to, for Auta’s sake.

“I have decided, against the advice of the council, to hand down a different sentence. Five hundred people died before the Black Mist took the Isles, five hundred people that suffered Wolf’s teeth and were denied an eternal rest. You, Brother Auta, will perform their last rites and put them to rest. Am I clear?”

Auta nodded slowly, still looking a little stunned, but also a little angry.

“Am I clear, Brother Auta? With words.”

“Yes, Father,” Auta answered, letting venom drip through his voice freely.

“Brother Yorick will see you to the charnel house. You will work alone. If I find out you’re getting help, I may reconsider the mercy I’ve shown you here.”

Brother Yorick limped forwards, and Auta turned to follow him. When the council chamber fell silent once more, voices rose from the ring.

“Father, with all due respect, this is a mistake.”

“He broke our laws and shattered his oath. Even before the crimes he committed in the Mist.”

“We’re just supposed to  _ let  _ this monster live?”

“That monster,” Kai gave the final protestor a stern look, “is my son.”

“He caused the deaths of hundreds,” a council member protested. “That’s why most of us recommended death. I understand you believe it would do nothing. But the people who died… don’t their families deserve closure?”

“Knowing their loved ones rest peacefully will have to be closure enough,” Kai answered.

“Father…”

“Have you ever lost a child, Father Iori?” Kai asked.

Father Iori floundered for a moment, lost for words, before answering. “No, I have not lost my children, Father.”

“Auta’s older brother, Tane, died of wasting sickness when Auta was just twelve. Burying your child is an ache with no cure. I understand the pain the dead’s families feel, and yet I am still unwilling to take another life as retribution. That makes us no better than the invaders.”

“No better my ass,” another in the council shouted. “You can’t seriously sit here unaffected by what that- that  _ thing _ did. What about your other children? Your  _ wife _ ?”

“I am angry,” Kai snapped back. “I am  _ furious _ that my own child acted in this way. I am crushed by the weight of those deaths. But this is not the time for anger. If we let anger rule us now, we lose everything we just reclaimed.”

The council fell silent, their anger a tangible weight on Kai’s shoulders.

“What of the Kindred Man?” Iori asked. “We can’t imprison him forever.”

“We can’t,” Kai agreed, “and we can’t kill him either. His words made it clear to me: he does not grasp the gravity of his actions.”

The Kindred Man, the Noxii boy barely twenty-five years old, thin as a rail and the size of a child of thirteen. He’d been crazed when recovered, and preached death and undeath to any poor soul who would listen. Kai had seen zealots; this was different.

“Those acquainted with death often don’t see the good in life,” a council member offered. “The shades of the cycle all have a purpose.”

“Then we teach him?” Iori scoffed. “The Noxii don’t listen.”

“This one might.” Kai stood. “Those in favor of teaching the Kindred Man?” Most of the council raised a hand. Iori glared daggers into Kai. “Then it’s settled,” Kai nodded. “We will speak with him tomorrow morning. Until then, we are adjourned.”

The council members filtered out, and Kai picked his way down to the charnel house, passing Brother Yorick along his way.

Yorick unnerved the other monks, but he had always been kind to all of them, and had looked after Auta well enough. After Tane’s death, Yorick had been a true comfort.

“Father,” Yorick spoke up, “forgive me for asking, but why did you really spare him?” Kai raised his eyebrows at Yorick’s forwardness, but the monk continued. “Unwillingness to kill your son is no reason, and I can feel it on you.” Yorick braced a firm hand on Kai’s shoulder. “This was not your fault. Auta made his own choices.”

“I haven’t spoken to Auta since his Mistcalling,” Kai answered. “And as much as I appreciate your insistence that I am in no way at fault, we both know that’s wrong.”

“You didn’t tell him to hurt anyone,” Yorick reminded Kai.

“I didn’t tell him to do anything,” Kai answered sharply.

He parted with Yorick and continued to the charnel house.

There was little to do with the place. A shovel rested by the old oak door, open a crack. A soft hummed melody drifted from inside, repeating an old Buhru lullaby. Kai never liked Buhru songs; they were too macabre for his tastes.

He’d never figured Auta for the type.

Kai opened the door and stepped in. Auta barely looked at him, too busy filling the tables with the heavier corpses, two invaders and a burly gravedigger.

“Settled in?” Kai guessed. No response. Kai leaned on one table. Auta started on the farthest one. “Brother, I’d prefer words to silence.”

“Forgive me, Father,” Auta replied, forcing formality through a coat of venom. “I do not want to talk.”

“Auta.” Kai dropped the formality.

“I’d like to see to my work, Father, alone.”

“Mahuri.”

Auta’s head snapped up now, fury in his eyes. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

“Then talk to me,” Kai replied.

“Get out.” Auta spat. “I don’t want to talk.”

“You’re angry,” Kai guessed.

“Take a hint,” Auta muttered.

“Auta,” Kai began again.

“What?” Auta was shouting now. “What do you want? What great wisdom do you want to share that will  _ magically _ make things right? You were better off listening to the council.”

“You don’t really think that,” Kai sighed.

“And you don’t really think there’s hope for me,” Auta retorted. “You just can’t stand the idea that you fucked up.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kai started around the table.

“Then beg.” Auta turned his attention back to his work. Kai grabbed his ear and spun him around. Auta screamed and clawed at Kai’s hand, but Kai held fast.

“I may not have been the best father, but I did  _ not _ teach you to speak to  _ anyone _ like that,” Kai yanked Auta’s ear, hard. Auta shrieked and tried in vain to pull free. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” Kai raised his voice. “Do you actually get it or do I need to spell it out for you?” Kai switched his hand to the back of Auta’s neck and dragged him to the gravedigger, shoving his son’s face inches from the corpse’s and holding it there. “That man had children and a wife. Look at him. He helped raise you; he  _ cared about you _ .”

“Get off!” Auta screamed. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Look.” Kai repeated. “That’s a human life. Do you think he’d forgive you for what you’ve done?”

“Please,” Auta begged, “let go.”

Kai released Auta, and he scrambled away. Kai took a deep breath to calm himself and turned to Auta. There was still anger in his throat, but Auta’s terrified face chased away any thought of voicing it.

“I have done my best to raise you, and your siblings,” Kai continued. “There is nothing that excuses what you did, nothing, and I just put the council’s trust in me on the line to save your life. Think on that, then consider whether or not your attitude towards me is warranted.”

Kai walked out, leaving Auta alone with his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Thresh leaned on his shovel and sank into one hip. He almost fell asleep standing when a clap of thunder jolted him awake and reminded him of the storm rolling in. 

He looked at the grave he’d just filled in. He hadn’t known this one: a young acolyte who never would’ve known about the sacred spring or its secrets, not that it would’ve stopped Hecarim and his Iron Order. They had never been planning to stop when they accomplished their goals, little more than blood-hungry gloryseekers. They would’ve impressed Thresh, if they had an ounce of intelligence between them.

Thresh looked up at the dark horizon as he retreated inside. How lovely that dark squall line seemed to him. How much like the Black Mist that once rolled overhead. Thresh could still taste the anguish in his mouth, rolling around like a fine wine. The cold was an oppressive weight on one's shoulders that bit into the skin with a thousand needle-sharp teeth, the screams a symphony only a lucky few could hear. Thresh had gone numb in the Mist; the pain around and in him had mixed into a perfect ecstasy. The Restoration had left him hollow, and the Order had done little to relieve that feeling. It would have been better to die, to accept Lamb’s arrows and pass into the still fields of the afterlife. Life didn’t bring him anything fulfilling, just a couple of uneasy glares and an uncomfortable silence, a distaste sour on his tongue.

The wind slammed the heavy door shut behind Thresh, but the star lamps above let light into the room. The dingy, puny room, with three stone tables in a line along the floor, still soaked with blood and dirt, still wet from the bathing and filled with the stink of death. A ladder at the back of the charnel house led up to the mortuary, but with the storm picking up outside, Thresh wasn’t going to start a fourth body that day. The Blessed Isles had always been rocked by wicked storms. Digging in such a storm meant adding two bodies to the grave, if you managed to get your dearly departed six feet under before the sandy ground turned to marsh and swallowed you whole.

Instead, he rested the shovel by the door and shut the latch as rain began to fall outside. Thresh pulled his coat free and tied the sleeves around his waist. He pulled his dreadlocks up into a knot and gathered a bucket and brush. The tables were disgusting, the floors even worse. Work was never finished in the Order of Dusk, and if it was, you were doing something wrong.

That had been Thresh’s first lesson in the Order.

Someone tried to pull the door open, and judging by the fumbling outside, had misjudged their grip. Thresh placed the bucket on the frontmost table and undid the latch. A soaked acolyte tumbled in, carrying a shepherd’s crook and a sickening air of innocence Thresh could just see across his freckled nose.

“Brother Auta!” The acolyte went stiff. Thresh almost rolled his eyes and relatched the door.

“Leave the crook by the shovel,” he ordered. “Coat and boots off.”

“But-” the acolyte began, but stopped himself and wisely obeyed. A crack of thunder shook the windows and lightning streaked into the fields nearby.

“She’s angry,” the acolyte muttered, “isn’t she?”

“Naga?” Thresh glanced out one window, “No, storms are a sign of change, not anger.”

Thresh returned to the table and started cleaning it, ignoring the thirteen-year-old now wandering the charnel house like it was his personal home.

“Do you need help?” the acolyte asked.

“I’m not allowed help,” Thresh replied. “I’m to do this alone.”

“Just the last rites.” The acolyte scooped up a bucket and trotted over to the inside pump. “We’re supposed to be helping you clean, us acolytes. We - well, we’re all too scared to go in alone. We just tell the lay-brothers we did it.”

Thresh leaned on the table, “So, you lie.”

“Just a little,” the acolyte admitted. “Brother Mati said you’ll flay us and wear our skins as a coat if we’re rude to you.”

“Brother Mati never did like me,” Thresh replied, eyeing the boy as he started to scrub the floor. “Find the grain and scrub with it. It’ll clean faster.”

“That doesn’t work on stone floors,” the acolyte frowned. To emphasize this, he gave tiles a sharp knock.

“Everything has a grain, and the floor is tile.” Thresh stepped away from the table and knelt in front of the boy. “It’s baked clay, like brick, but more fragile.”

“So where’s the grain?” the acolyte asked.

“Look,” Thresh urged. The acolyte stared blankly. Thresh rolled his eyes and gestured to one tile. “See how the dirt follows a line? That’s the grain.”

The acolyte squinted, then nodded. “That’s weird.”

“Things have currents,” Thresh explained. “They flow. You need to let them. You know the saying? The one the Fathers are always repeating? We let the water flow, we let it rise up and renew us. We are the current, and the current is us.”

“I thought they were just being obtuse.”

“They were being a little obtuse,” Thresh granted, “but it’s still true.”

“Cleaning with a current sounds annoying.” The acolyte pouted.

“It’ll be done faster,” Thresh said. “I promise.”

“On the Maiden?” The acolyte gave an impish grin. Thresh hadn’t heard that teasing remark for awhile, but he let out a sigh and answered.

“On the Maiden. Happy?”

“Yes.”

Thresh stood and went back to cleaning the table, watching the acolyte closely.

“Is it true Father Kai is your dad?” the acolyte asked. Thresh flinched.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Then why are you just a lay-brother?” The acolyte looked up. “All the other Fathers’ sons are way higher rank. Most of them are rat-bastards.”

Thresh snorted trying not to laugh, “They’re  _ what _ ?”

“Rat-bastards,” the acolyte repeated.

“You’re a mountain kid,” Thresh guessed, “aren’t you?”

The acolyte nodded, “base of Riveke, like you.”

Thresh relaxed a little. “My dad used to call people that. I haven’t heard it in a long time.”

“My mom calls people that,” the acolyte replied. “My dad…” The acolyte looked up to the mortuary. “Did you bury Father Guri yet?”

“Not yet.” Thresh shook his head. “I was going to start on him tomorrow morning, once the storm passed. Was that your dad?”

The acolyte nodded. “Did you know Father Guri?”

“He was my godfather,” Thresh answered. “I didn’t know he had a son.”

“He doesn’t talk about me much,” the acolyte answered, returning to scrubbing. “He didn’t want me to join the Order. Actually, I think he would’ve been happier if I’d never been born.”

Thresh sighed and stepped away from the first table. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The acolyte smiled. “I still have mama, and I don’t miss papa as much as some of the other kids miss their parents.” The acolyte paused his scrubbing. “Is that bad?” he asked, “Am I a bad person for not missing my dad? Everyone else misses their dad. Little Ani cries himself to sleep because he wants his dad back but I… I don’t miss him.”

Thresh took a moment as he started cleaning the second table before answering. “You don’t have to mourn someone who never loved you. It’s okay to just feel nothing. It’s okay to be numb. Sometimes, nothing is better than something.”

“But does that make me bad?” the acolyte asked, looking even more panicked. “Am I evil? Like-like-”

The boy stopped himself, but the way he clapped his hands over his mouth made his meaning plain.

“Like me,” Thresh finished, picking at a shred of dried blood. “You’re not like me, kid. Trust me. I’ve seen people like me.” Thresh stared into the table grain. “They don’t worry about that kind of thing.”

The acolyte returned to cleaning, and they passed their time in silence, the only sounds being the storm outside and the general bustle of cleaning.

Just as the acolyte finished the floor, the latch lifted from outside and a pair of monks stumbled in. The acolyte hopped to his feet and looked them both over warily.

“There he is,” one sighed in relief, “Leo, you scared us.”

“Sorry,” the acolyte answered. “I got stuck in the far fields, and this was the closest building.”

“He didn’t bother me,” Thresh offered, picking up the buckets so he could dump them. The monks looked at him, as if they’d just now realized he was here. They looked less than happy to see him.

“Of course not, Brother.” The second monk forced a smile. “I’m glad our young brother didn’t hinder your work too much.”

“Can’t bury bodies in a storm,” Thresh replied, carrying the buckets to the back door. “He would’ve been fine here until the rain let up. Father Iori doesn’t usually make lay-brothers go out in storms to look for acolytes.”

“Well…” the first monk began, but stopped himself.

“Father Iori doesn’t want the acolytes here,” the second finished, “at all.”

“Cleaning the charnel houses is one of their duties,” Thresh pointed out.

“He’s trying to change that,” the second crossed his arms with a grin. “Make it your job.”

“He won’t succeed,” Thresh replied. “If you’d rather the boy risk the storm, be my guest. I won’t stop you, but it’s a mistake, and you know it is.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. Now if you’re so keen on fetching Brother Leo: take him and go.”

The monks shifted uncomfortably, as if neither was keen on going back into the torrent of rain outside. They looked from Leo to each other, as if they wanted to ask something, but couldn’t work up the courage or basic decency.

Finally, the first monk spoke up. “I don’t know about Brother Xenos, but I don’t want to go back out there. Father just wanted us to find Leo, not take him back.”

Thresh turned back to the monks, cracking the smallest of grins. “You’re Father Iori’s boy, Mati, aren’t you?”

Mati fidgeted nervously. “Your point?”

“Oh, nothing major.” Thresh leaned on the table, resting his chin in one hand. “Just that Brother Leo mentioned something about you telling the acolytes I skin people.”

Leo chose this moment to have an epiphany. “Brother Mati, you’re like Brother Auta!”

Thresh and Mati exchanged confused looks, then turned back to Leo.

“Expand on that,” Mati requested.

“Well, you’re both related to the Fathers,” Leo reported. “But you’re just lay-brothers. All the others like that are higher-ranked.”

“Well I’ll grant it,” Mati shrugged. “Father Iori didn’t believe in nepotism, or giving his son his dues. At least  _ I _ didn’t betray the Order and cause a magic catastrophe.”

“You wouldn’t have the spine to do either,” Thresh retorted. “Still, you had a personality in the Mist, more than I can say for Father Iori.”

Mati set his mouth, but said nothing. He just walked around to a chair and sat in it, his gaze fixed on the windows outside. Thresh returned to dumping the buckets out the back door while the others began to talk quietly amongst themselves. Thresh considered listening in for a moment, but chose not to. Those two already didn’t like Thresh; he wasn’t about to make things worse. Still, he couldn’t help but notice that Mati was shooting him furtive glares, a strong warning for him to stay back. Thresh kept himself on the far side of the charnel house, striking up a fire in the small hearth.

“Do you talk to anyone?” Xenos finally spoke up, drawing Thresh’s gaze. “You know, aside from when you’re forced?”

“Do you  _ want _ to talk to me?” Thresh gave the monk a pointed look. Xenos scowled, and Thresh turned forwards again. “Didn’t think so. I’m fine being alone. I’m used to it.”

The three went back to their conversation, a little quieter, a little more hesitant. Thresh placed a full kettle over the hearth and stared into the flames beneath it. He wanted to be alone, without all these extra faces that didn’t even want anything to do with him. It was a new feeling, wanting to be ignored, but he embraced it. There was nothing left for him in the Order, if there had been anything to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fun times with the terrible boy, right?


	3. Chapter 3

Karthus noticed the gravedigger three days in, but he didn't really start wondering about him until a week later. It was hard to miss the young man, smaller than most of the monks his age and with a distinct line to his features that looked a little less Helian and a little more Ionian. Barely anyone went near him - a few lay-brothers, the acolytes that cleaned the charnel houses, Father Kai, and of course Father Iori, the man in charge of the lay-brothers. Most others avoided it, casting him sidelong glances or whispering amongst themselves. Karthus had the good sense to not eavesdrop, his place here was already tenuous at best.

"Pardon." Karthus approached one of the lay-brothers, a veritable mountain of a man with a prickly black beard and a tired look in his pale blue eyes. He was one of the few that spoke to the gravedigger.

"Yes?" The lay-brother asked, leaning on his shovel, his face clouded with annoyance.

"Who is that?" Karthus gestured to the gravedigger, who was amid lowering a corpse into a new grave.

"Brother Auta," the lay-brother answered. "He'll likely be joining us once he's done."

"Done what?" Karthus scowled.

"Burying those killed during the invasion."

"Alone?"

"That's what happens when you break your oath."

Karthus set his mouth and watched the gravedigger a little longer. "Why not expel him from the order?"

"Father Kai, the head of the council, is his father."

Karthus nodded. He'd heard of similar things occurring in Noxus. Karthus turned away and returned to the duties assigned to him.

"Karthus." One of the lay-brothers approached. "Father Iori needs someone to escort an acolyte to the lower charnel house to clean it."

"The lower one?" Karthus repeated, expecting clarification.

"Brother Auta's." The brother pointed down to where the gravedigger was working. "We'll send the acolyte to you when you're done your work."

The brother departed and Karthus finished the last of his task before a young boy, no older than thirteen, approached with two buckets, a broom, a mop, and a scrub brush.

"Hello!" the boy greeted with a far too chipper smile. It was nauseatingly fake.

"Ready to go?" Karthus guessed. The boy nodded.

Karthus walked the boy down to the charnel house, a little more relaxed when he heard the solemn melody of "The Willow Maid:" a Noxii lullaby, and a dour one at that. It was the gravedigger singing, but after seeing Karthus and the boy, he stopped. The acolyte gave the gravedigger - Auta - a wave, and he stopped.

"Good morning, Brother Leo," he greeted, his voice stiff and uncaring. "The door's open."

"How are the graves coming along?" the acolyte asked.

"They're coming along," Auta replied flatly. Karthus gritted his teeth. He sounded so hostile and the boy clearly meant no harm with his cheerful questions.

"He's just asking questions," Karthus snapped, perhaps a little out of turn. "You don't need to be rude to him."

"Would you prefer I ignore him?" the gravedigger asked. "The door's open. Try to keep yourselves scarce once I'm done with this grave."

Karthus let out a sharp snort and followed Leo into the charnel house. Leo got to work immediately, but Karthus took a minute to take in the main room. It was like one of the healing rooms, lined with shelves and cabinets holding an assortment of things. Three wooden tables stood in the center of the room, stained with blood and wet. The frontmost one had a wide bowl on a semi-dry spot, filled with murky water. A bloodstained rag floated in the bowl. A ladder at the far end of the room led up to a loft - likely the mortuary itself - and a door sat near the hearth on the left, open enough that the tiny apartment beyond was visible. Austere, like most of the Order, but nothing here looked personal, the gravedigger did not treat this place like a home.

Karthus set to work cleaning the tables. He noted that there weren't tallies on the edges like on healing tables. The bowl on the front table, likewise, was a simple earthenware bowl, undecorated, or as the healers and gravemakers called them, unloved. It made the work easier, at least.

After Karthus finished cleaning the front table and replacing the water and rag in the bowl, Auta stepped in. He carefully removed his muddy boots and tread across the tile floor carefully, making certain to avoid the clean parts of the floor. _He_ didn't look like a gravemaker, now that Karthus was really looking at him. His black uniform was barely adorned, aside from traditional uniform decorations. His dreadlocks, a trait he'd also seen on younger monks, were undecorated; no gold beads or colorful strings, just tied back in a sensible bun. His ears were pierced, and small black studs were fitted into the earlobes, as if they were only there to keep the holes from closing, and a few loops were set higher up. A simple ring circled through his septum and a piercing was set between his eyes, but these were as utilitarian as the studs. He'd made one departure from the typical uniform. While most gravemakers wore their stormcloaks normally, this one had tied it around his waist, most likely to keep it off his shoulders while he worked.

Auta climbed the ladder up to the mortuary, and Karthus went to clean the middle table. He glanced up when the gravedigger returned with a body, this one of a child, no older than Leo, and most likely younger. The room fell silent; even Leo's bustling as he cleaned the floor felt so far off. Karthus hadn't seen a corpse in weeks. The healers covered them like Kindred Men, and Karthus hadn't been in any other charnel house. He didn't know when it had changed, but suddenly the sight of a dead body was chilling.

Auta pulled the rag from the cleaned bowl and started cleaning the body, slowly, methodically, as if it was just the same as the table it was laying on. Karthus felt a tingling in the back of his throat, a rush of heat, and his heart began to pound. Why? He wasn't manhandling the body, and there was no disrespect.

The words left Karthus' throat before he could stop them.

"That's a person."

Auta turned back to Karthus, a tired, annoyed look on his face. Karthus glared back. There was nothing in this...this monster of a man. He had no light in his eyes, no emotion, no kindness. He didn't care, at the very least the other monks cared.

"It was a person," Auta corrected. "Learn the difference, Deathsinger."

Karthus flinched. "Do you think her parents would appreciate knowing her last rites are being performed by someone who doesn't see her as any more important than the wood she's placed on?"

"I have to bury five hundred bodies. If I felt the loss of all of them, I'd be a sad man."

"You don't have to feel their loss," Karthus raised his voice. "You just need to handle their bodies like they were living things."

"I'm sorry, am I not being _delicate_ enough for you?" Auta shouted, storming up to the middle table. "Because if you haven't noticed, your precious Noxii ass is being allowed to stay in the Order when it should be carted back to whatever filthy _hovel_ you crawled out of and left to starve. If you don't like how I'm working you can get the _fuck_ out of this building and go cry to my father for all I _fucking_ care."

Karthus stepped back and heaved a slow sigh. "You have no right to speak of the bridges I burned to get here when they can't hold a candle to the _inferno_ you've created. Everyone but your nepotist father shuns you, and you're making it abundantly clear how that came to be. Give me one reason why letting the pair of you stay wasn't a _mistake_."

The next Karthus remembered, he was on the ground. His head was spinning, one eye was swollen shut, and someone was screaming.

_The gravedigger_ was screaming. Where his eyes were once dull, they now blazed as two brothers held him back, and a third helped Karthus stumble to his feet. Maybe it had been a few seconds, perhaps a minute, but something had set Auta off.

The loud tap of a staff on wood brought Auta still, but he still fumed as Father Iori walked around to survey the damage. Leo trailed at his feet, eyes wide. Karthus knew Iori was angry, the old man's face twisted just right for it, but as the glare took focus, Karthus felt a lump in his throat.

It was directed at both of them.

"Noxii don't learn," Iori muttered bitterly, "and neither do _you_. Both of you, to the monastery, _now_."

The brothers holding Auta released him, and he followed Iori out of the charnel house. Karthus, with the third brother's help, limped after them. The walk was short and tense, while Karthus tried to figure out exactly what he'd done wrong.

"Where's Kai?" Iori snapped when they stepped in. One monk ran to get him, while Iori waited, tapping his cane on the ground like a third, impatient foot. Karthus's swollen eye was throbbing, and he could see the culprit now; Auta's knuckles were starting to bruise.

Kai hurried in after a few minutes, focusing immediately on Karthus. Kai had a gentle face and kind eyes. He didn't look much like Auta, save for his eyes, they were the same sea blue, but the monolid was more pronounced. If you weren't looking closely, you could barely tell Auta even had one.

"Is he alright?" Kai asked.

"For _fuck's_ sake, I didn't kill him," Auta muttered.

"Brother Leo said the Noxii started it," Iori replied. "And while I highly doubt your son attacked without provocation, he doesn't have any right to _hit_ anyone."

"I wasn't disagreeing, Iori," Kai stepped back. "But I'd first like to make sure the physically injured party is alright. _As for you_." Kai turned to the simmering young man and pulled him over. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking?"

"I was thinking he insulted me, and then you," Auta answered. "And I don't give a damn if I get thrown out or punished, but I'm not taking some delusional Noxii _bitch_ and his half-rate 'observations' lying down."

"Fifteen, Father Iori," Kai shoved Auta back. "Then send him back to his work. I'll handle the Noxii boy."

"I'm sorry?" Auta raised his voice. " _That's_ what I get for fucking defending you?"

"You don't attack people unprovoked," Kai replied. "Fifteen is lenient."

"Unprovoked my ass!" Auta shouted.

"Twenty," Kai corrected firmly. "Don't argue with me, Auta."

Iori tapped Auta's leg with his cane, and the young monk fell silent. He followed Iori out, giving Karthus a nasty glare as he went. Karthus waited until they were gone before voicing his question. He had a guess as to what the numbers meant, but he wanted to be certain.

"Twenty?"

"Father Iori deals with discipline," Kai clarified. "Including physical punishment. You were attacked, so I made the call to order a whipping."

"But I'm fine," Karthus protested.

"You being fine doesn't change the behavior," Kai pointed out. "And while I don't think a beating does either, the Council doesn't consider a harsh scolding sufficient."

"I see," Karthus relaxed.

"He'll be fine," Kai assured Karthus. "As for you."

Karthus' eyes found his feet. He didn't really want to repeat his words to Auta, especially not after knowing what his reaction resulted in.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Sorry doesn't change that one of the Order is being whipped over your words," Kai noted. "And I don't know what those words are."

"I'd rather not repeat-"

"Karthus, this is not a place of shame for the sake of shame. You need to face the people you insult, and understand what you said wrong, and why it was wrong. Do you understand?"

Karthus nodded.

"Well?"

Karthus took a deep breath and recounted everything, including what he'd said about Kai. Kai listened, pensive, and when Karthus was done, he heaved a long sigh.

"I want to make something very, _very_ clear," he lifted Karthus' chin. "I have spent my time on the Isles clawing my way up the ladder. Helians are accepting, but no monk, _not one_ , expected an Ionian to become the abbot. I do not welcome my son's violent reaction to your words but mark me, boy, if I hear another word out of your mouth that insults the work I or my son have done to stand where we do, I will send you back to Noxus in a _heartbeat_."

Kai released Karthus, who took a few steps back. "So it's true." He stood a little straighter.

"If it was true, Auta would not be a lay-brother," Kai replied. "Before the Ruination, he was a custodian."

"There's a difference?"

Kai raised his eyebrows. "So Iori hasn't been teaching you?"

"Noxii don't learn," Karthus repeated, rolling his eyes. Kai cracked a smile and gestured for Karthus to follow.

"The Order is split into roles," Kai explained. "All of us see to the tasks of healing, separated by complexity and expertise. Auta is quite practiced in maladies of darker nature, for instance, so a severe curse would be given to him."

"What about the other roles?" Karthus frowned.

"Acolytes and lay-brothers see to the upkeep of the monastery and maintenance of our crops and livestock. They also perform most funerary rites and basic chores. Father Iori and Mother Kalliope look after them."

"Auta is a lay-brother then," Karthus looked out on the fields as they passed. Many of the lay-brothers were the brawny sort, tall and muscular. They would do well in Noxus' armies, but most looked like they enjoyed the work.

Kai nodded. "Custodians are a step above, and are a valued cog in our main duty: magical preservation." Kai strode into a hall with a great domed ceiling and gestured skyward, to the great shifting star map above them. "This is the Gallery, the repository of our greatest collections. This point is the center of our monastery."

"And the custodians work here?" Karthus guessed. "Doing what?"

"Caring for our collections," Kai answered. "The repository is split into vaults, each signifying a category of magic. Auta's vault was our deepest. Hold this." Kai handed Karthus his staff and stepped out into the center of the gallery. He traced a rune in the center of the floor and a staircase sank around him. Kai began to descend, and Karthus stumbled over himself to follow.

"What do you keep down here?" Karthus asked.

"The most dangerous artifacts we collect," Kai said. "Those corrupted or steeped in black magic. It's a difficult, isolating task. We don't give it to just anyone." Kai held up a hand to stop Karthus and traced a rune into the wall, waited, then continued. "We have three wards set up on the steps, and then two more at the entrance and exit, purely to keep these out of the wrong hands."

"Why did you put Auta in charge of this?" Karthus asked.

"At the time, we thought he could handle it," Kai answered. "He was one of the hardest workers in his crop of acolytes. At his Mistcalling - his coming of age - we considered this vault, and his role, a great honor for all his hard work. He didn't see it that way."

Kai continued down the steps until they entered the vault. The young monk inside gave Kai a solemn bow.

"Brother Theo," Kai gestured to the boy. "He replaced Auta after the Ruination."

Theo bowed again. He seemed somewhat skittish.

"Father, could you ask Auta how to quiet the night forge?" he asked. "It's been giving me nightmares."

"I'll be sure to ask," Kai nodded.

"I'd much rather see to the vault with his help," Theo admitted.

"It's better that we keep Auta away from the vault," Kai said. "But I'll speak with the council. Karthus."

Karthus jolted and stood up straight.

"I want you to help Brother Theo for the next week," he ordered. "I don't normally give this kind of job to a guest, but make no mistake: this is a punishment. I want you to understand that this job, as much as it is an honor, is not a privilege. It is a responsibility, one I believe you are wholly unprepared for. Am I understood?"

"Yes," Karthus nodded. Kai tousled Theo's hair and walked out. The wards sealed themselves behind him, and the vault sprang to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's clear I am not of the opinion that Karthus would be, in any way, shape, or form, friends with Thresh.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to make it clear Auta is Thresh and Thresh's POV will still refer to him as Thresh. If too many readers get confused, I'll change it.


End file.
